


About Children and Their Parents

by Jfms



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU, Accidental Child Acquisition, Angst, Found Family?, Freylin, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Morgana cameo, Not Beta Read, mild Arthur hate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:48:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25793902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jfms/pseuds/Jfms
Summary: As the new King, Arthur decides to admit a poor little druid kid into The Knights Academy to... you know... be fair and just and save a child from the evils of magic.Who knew that kid is already a sorcerer and destined to kill Arthur?Merlin did. But no one ever asks him.However, forced through a series of random events to practically adopt Mordred (and his annoying friends), Merlin finds himself looking at destiny from a different perspective.Also, he hopes his lake barely-girlfriend is ready to be a mom.
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Knight Academy is made up, obviously. Just think any YA fantasy boarding school only with the knights' stuff. The kids are admitted at 12 yo and then somehow become knights.
> 
> Self-indulgent fic so that Merlin can be cute with kids basically.

It all starts with His Majesty's brilliant idea.

One morning Merlin walks into Arthur's chamber and stops.

It is barely sunrise, but Arthur is awake and sits at his desk, dressed. His face is tired and scrunched up in deep thoughts.

A perfect picture of the wise and shrewd young King.

Or at least it would be for someone other than Merlin. Merlin is aware that the covers on Arthur's bed are just thrown on it with a bunched up blanket and all underneath, the washbasin is overturned and dry as a dessert, Arthur's tunic, red and simple, is clearly from the mending pile.

Merlin is also aware that yesterday was a mission - the first one on which Arthur went as a King. Reports said it was the most ordinary home bred bandits, so Merlin didn't go. He stayed to help Gaius with post-winter inventory and now curses himself for thinking something ever could go smoothly with Arthur.

Merlin throws tray with breakfast on the floor beside the door and steps closer to the desk, gently, like a cat with its soft velvet paws. Arthur is unpredictable, but Merlin knows a tactic or two.

\- What are you thinking about? Quails? - Merlin goes with clueless and ignoramus. - Wait a little and the hunting season will start.

If there's one thing Arthur loves the most it is sharing his unparalleled wisdom with his subordinates, who are in desperate need of guidance. And the more indecently this need manifests, the better.

If there's one thing Arthur hates the most it is being suspected of being not all noble and kingly and better than thou in actions and thoughts. Especially if thou are a lowly little servant, crude and uncouth.

Merlin gets what he wants. Arthur rolls his eyes and signs long-sufferingly:

\- No, _Mer_ lin. Only the likes of you waste time dreaming about such low things. _I'm_ thinking about our Kingdom's affairs.

\- Oh?! - Merlin puts his most earnest and awestruck face.

Arthur falls for it the second time. He patronizingly puts his hand on Merlin's shoulders and guides him to a chair on the opposite.

\- Sit, Merlin. I want to tell you something.

Merlin is all ears.

\- You know about yesterday's mission, right? - Arthur levels him with the heaviest look. - It wasn't regular bandits. They were sorcerers.

Merlin limbs go numb. Ridiculous. Arthur is fine and there weren't any knights visiting Gaius yesterday. Really? Just the word "magic" from Arthur can send Merlin in a frenzy now.

Arthur sees and hurries to shrug it off:

\- Not all of them, just a couple and they didn't use many tricks. We dealt with them quickly.

It's a knight's for killing.

Unwittingly Merlin flinches.

This time Arthur looks annoyed.

\- But it is not the point. - he says somewhat bitterly and too fast. - There was a kid with them. Not magical. He didn't do anything even when... - Suddenly he becomes unsure. He does this thing when he looks up into the other person's eyes, unsure and trusting. Like a child. Merlin never has had the heart to say how it looks from the outside. For himself, he uncrosses legs to look more open. - Well, the thing is he's got no home, right? And if we give him to druids, he would just become corrupted with magic? So I ordered to take him with us. He'll be a new page in the academy. He is the right age too.

Merlin doesn't know what to respond to this kind of logic.

Arthur talks on and on about reforming traditions, saving lives, and making a change. Merlin tunes it all out.

This feels anti-climatic. It's nice Arthur doesn't drown druid's children as Uther did! But still, taking one druid child with no magic to train as a knight feels insignificant and remote in comparison to the image of the future Merlin wants. Also, he went by a couple of lessons at the academy and it is... Will would have a heart attack seeing this amount of pure indoctrination and monarchy propaganda. Pure kid probably would have a better chance at a normal life living in the woods.

But ultimately, this doesn't concern Merlin.

Oh, how he is wrong.

* * *

Merlin kind of forgets about the talk, he lives his normal life: doing chores for Arthur, doing rounds with Gaius, practicing spells.

Until one day Arthur brings on the training field a bunch of younger pupils and Merlin sees _him_.

There, between scruffy looking kids with their not quite right-sized tunics and not properly fastened random parts of armor stands the familiar figure with curly hair and gloomy face.

Mordred doesn't notice him.

Afraid to move, Merlin sits at his table and watches Arthur try to not get an aneurysm. His left eye twitches somewhat desperately with each new look at his charges' pathetic excuses of armor.

At the back of his mind, Merlin laughs meanly. That's what you get letting a bunch of 12 years old living on their own. But then it must be a noble thing - he and Will were let to travel in other places to buy seeds alone at that age.

Merlin chuckles, looking away for a second, and when he returns his gaze to the group, he is met with the set of green eyes watching. They still have the same creepy, knowing expression that Merlin can't read to save his life.

The next second Arthur yells something and pupils scramble to do laps around the field.

Slowly Merlin pushes aside the shield he was polishing and chooses the moment when no one is looking to run to Gaius.

Sure, he most likely will get yelled for this, but the situation is serious. What if this is some evil plan to sneak into Camelot? Or to learn about all the secrets and then sneak into Camelot? Or it is Mordred's plan of getting closer to Arthur and then murdering him?

Merlin almost turns around, " ** _Oh Gods Arthur's alone with him",_** but stops himself. How long ago Arthur said he found the kid?

His Majesty'll survive another couple hours.

Gaius does nothing to ease his panic. He meaningfully furrows his brows, musingly raises his brows, shifts and moves his brows but, as always, the only thing it tells Merlin is Gaius has his concerns.

Merlin looks into his face attentively, trying to decipher Gaius' thoughts or at least get some coherent answers, all in vain.

But one thing is clear - destiny threw some work at Merlin. Again.

* * *

Merlin apprehends the kid later that morning. From his secret alcove, he notices the group of young pupils heading to the washing room. Merlin waits and waits and when he yanks Mordred in the adjusting empty corridor no one notices.

The kid himself barely reacts to the action. Merlin glares at him, expecting... something.

They stay silent for a minute looking at each other and Merlin snaps:

\- Why are you here?

The kid says nothing. But he does look eerie from under his forehead.

Merlin tsks. Mordred has the audacity to roll his eyes.

Finally, he says:

\- His majesty brought me here. He saved me.

Suppressing the urge to barf at hearing someone call Arthur His Majesty unironically, Merlin raises his brow skeptically:

\- Saved you? I heard he killed your group...

The kid flinches and Merlin steps aside, a little panicky, but continues:

\- And then he took you here so that druids won't _corrupt_ you with magic.

\- Exactly! He wanted to do a good thing. He is an honorable man, that treats all people fairly, so he gave me a chance!

That has been the first human emotion Merlin has witnessed on the kid. Mordred checks are pinkish and his eyes have this adoring glow Merlin got accustomed to seeing on every younger and new knight that was trained by Arthur.

He exhales, still not convinced:

\- So what? You want to stay in Camelot now? Be a knight all your life?

Mordred nods.

\- And what about your magic? Do you think Arthur will still treat you fairly if he knew?

\- Do you?

And Mordred is back on his weird adult thing. Merlin is not about to give up though:

\- It's different. I have to be here, I have a destiny.

\- Well, if the Emrys believes magic will be free again in this land, why can't I?

That curiously makes sense.

When Mordred sneaks back into the main corridor, Merlin doesn't stop him. Because truly, why? If not for Killgarah's threats, Merlin wouldn't be surprised if someone believed that with Arthur things will be different. Especially someone like Mordred. Arthur did save him that one time.

But then he also raided Mordred's camp when Morgana had run away...

Merlin shakes his head. He decides he can't know the truth by thinking about it. He needs to observe Mordred and then decide.

* * *

So Merlin observes. Mordred is diligently doing lunges at the morning practice, helps servants with other pupils to haul around heavy things, the actual knights never say anything about him besides usual remarks about his background. And Merlin purposely listens!

Everything is perfect.

Mordred - the little druid kid, in no way stands out among the bunch of educated, well off nobles.

Right.

On the other hand, the relief Merlin feels after he finishes his day without any magic-related incidents is uncountable. It helps him mentally prepare for the day when something will happen.

That day Merlin is in the courtyard, he pats himself with the remains of the snow to freshen up after mucking the stables for the good part of the evening. The courtyard is empty, even the stray sounds from the kitchen don't disturb the calmness of the moment. With a small smile, Merlin turns east where setting sun already splashed the sky around with crimson. It's not the same magnificence as sunsets in Ealdor, where it seems that even the air caught fire, but it slowly becoming just as dear to Merlin.

"Emrys! Please!"

From surprise, Merlin nearly falls into the pile of dung he just cleaned from the stables.

The voice in his head is clearly Mordred's. And distressed. Behind the incoherent slugged word and noises, uncomfortably reminding Merlin about sobs, he could only distinguish his nickname and pleas for help.

It has started. Merlin isn't panicking, he is ready for action and even buzzing in his shoulders from all the work doesn't press down on him.

He looks around to check again that there is no one here and closes his eyes.

"What happened?"

"I don't know! It was an accident!"

The voice rings through Merlin's head. And, yes, the kid is crying.

"Relax, I'll deal with it. Where?"

"Emrys!"

Mordred can't say anything coherent from the tears and frankly, Merlin doesn't like it. Even that night in the tunnels the kid didn't sound like this.

He asks again, hoping his physician training lets his voice be both gentle and demanding enough.

"Mordred, where are you?"

Sobs stop for a second.

"The third practice room."

Merlin runs.

* * *

When he opens the door to the third practice room, he doesn't understand what's wrong instantly. It is dark, torches merely smolder. When he lights them, he can see circular marks around the holders and the walls beneath, the unmistakable footprints of a magical explosion. Mordred is not here, but seeing as there weren't any words that he is in danger, Merlin isn't that worried.

He looks around again and frowns. It is bad, but not hysterically crying bad.

Or maybe he is just practiced at getting rid of the evidence of magic.

Merlin locks the door and concentrates. A couple of minutes of chants and the bricks of the academy are as good as new.

He sighs. Then calls for Mordred again.

"I fixed the marks. No one will know."

Then after a second, he adds:

"Where are you?"

"The storage room... Near the dining hall."

Merlin runs. Again.

* * *

He finds the storage room quickly, even though the academy is out of his servant's competency. He enters. Mordred is sitting on the edge of a crumped dusty desk, legs on a stool. He is crying. Wretched childlike cry, not the creepy one he did years ago with immovable face and omniscient stare from under his forehead. No, his face is all scrunched up, cheeks bloated and red. The kid sobs heartbreakingly, trying and failing to hold all the emotions inside his little body.

That is the moment the weird thought blinks inside Merlin's head for the first time. Then he jumps. Carefully, as though nearing an edge of a cliff, he gets closer to the thought, considers it this way and that.

Yes, he is most certainly thinks that, no doubt.

**"I have no problem with Arthur dying if it means not having the kid cry like this ever again."**

Not waiting another minute, he shuts the door and in quick strides walks to Mordred. Merlin is unsure of "what now" when tiny hands desperately clutch his tunic.

He didn't think his heart could break more.

Merlin shushes reassuringly about "how he has taken care of everything and no one noticed and it's going to be fine" and rests his right hand on the curly head that instantly nuzzles into his palm as though the palm would disappear any second. Merlin's hand trembles a bit on that.

Merlin is good with kids. He likes them, they like him. He has no problems comforting them by hugging them and wiping their snotty little noses or scolding them, even creating silly punishment for disturbing societal peace.

With Mordred it is different. Mordred doesn't feel like a kid, always serious and inside himself, self-sufficient. Merlin doesn't feel like he has a right to pinch his cheek or wag his finger at him or _take care_ of him. Like he doesn't have a right to do these things to Leon, for example.

But suddenly something clicks. The unnatural feigned maturity, refusal to act his age, unapologetic recklessness match so well in Merlin's head with the image of this Mordred crying from fear and yelling for help because Merlin is familiar with all of it.

Whether this discovery calms or frightens him, Merlin doesn't know.


	2. Chapter 2

This accidental moment of closeness that Merlin saw as progress in their, dare he say, friendship turns out to be a major drawback.

If before Merlin caught stray glimpses in his direction, now... is nothing. One time at practice Merlin offers the kid a rug to clean his wooden sword with, but the scoundrel outright ignores him, pretending not to notice what is practically before his face.

Merlin should be glad. After all the whole thing was awkward even for him. Mordred, he guesses, is just nearing that age when being seen ugly crying must be mortifying. Nothing weird.

Besides, the kid is shifty and Merlin has always considered them enemies. Suddenly caring about a potential murderer seems... inappropriate.

Still, Merlin does. In his understanding of the world, there are adults - the ones who are responsible for everything, and there are kids - a part of everything that should be taken care of among other things. Merlin knows that Mordred is a kid, despite his attempts to not be seen as one. And if a kid doesn't have anyone who takes care of them, then it becomes a social duty. Like picking litter on the street or take a bath once in a while. Making sure the kids are okay.

That's why when Merlin sees Mordred run through the courtyard spotting a giant blue eye, he freaks out a little.

Where did that come from?

Most of the first-years lessons are theoretical: writing, etiquette, a bit of history. Practice includes physical non-contact exercises to build strength and master basic technics, so no punches could be thrown there. Accidents are also out of the table, for all Merlin clumsiness with subsequent bizarre injury acquisition, he doesn't believe that type of shiner could be gotten this way.

It seems the perfect student has gotten into a fight.

Slowly, Merlin rises from his knees, leaving Arthur's clothes to soak in the laundry trough. Technically, he will be doing his physician's apprentice's duties that come first, right?

He smiles awkwardly at other servants, leaving for them to watch over the laundry. Mordred is heading for the stables, so if Merlin runs through the west wing he could catch him.

Merlin is right. He jumps before the kid, right where the footpath turns behind the buildings. Mordred tries to hide the bruise by scratching his face at a weird angle, and Merlin tries to give him his best strict stare that is hard to do while looking disheveled like a crazy rabbit from all the running:

\- So. Who did you fight with?

\- I didn't. I had an accident in practice.

\- Uhumn.

Even without his previous reasoning, it's clear the kid is lying. There is just something very telling about his expression... Merlin is mildly horrified. Is that how he himself appears to Gaius?

\- Do you need the healing ointment? - Merlin tries to look casual. If roles are getting switched, then he wants to be the cool Gaius. He doesn't have enough years lived to be Gaius The dreadful.

Mordred's expression is unreadable, but he doesn't look angry and he doesn't run away. After what feels like half an hour, he speaks:

\- Yes. But just give me it, I know how to use it.

Suspicious, but alright.

* * *

This happens again. And again. When Merlin takes the ointments yet again, even Gaius, usually unbothered by Merlin's fussing with medicine bottles, pointedly stares at him the entire time.

For some reason, Merlin is reluctant to say why exactly he needs the ointment. He makes up a story about a new boisterous horse.

He hopes he sounds more convincing than Mordred.

At least Gaius doesn't say anything, so Merlin delivers the medicine without delays.

However, it can't be continuing like this. Merlin is all for trusting and letting people solve their own problems, but, clearly, it's not working for Mordred.

So the next morning, Merlin shows up at the training field, even though he should have been doing rounds with Gaius. He chooses that morning not without reason, Arthur is on patrol and no matter how much Leon tries to enforce discipline, he is just too softhearted. The kids shamelessly use it.

Without much difficulty, Merlin identifies the problem. Not forced to do lunges in complete silence, looking straight ahead, kids display their personality better. Someone is slacking off, someone is joking with friends, someone stays just as serious as though the King himself is watching his every move. Mordred is glaring.

He is standing at the front row, to pose as an example, and has the most pissed off expression directed at his fellow exemplary pupils. They, however, don't share the same animosity, merely looking away uncomfortably, after catching Mordred's glare.

It seems Merlin was wrong about it not working for Mordred. He observes still, curious.

The boys Mordred is so mad at are a group of three friends. They are noble, from one of the most well-respected families, judging by the quality of their tunics—soft and embroidered with an insignia of their respective house. Was the deal in that? That they are spoiled and out of touch and think they better than someone from a less honored family or than a commoner (another one of Arthur's novelties)? Maybe.

But why Mordred? In their year, at least a third of all pupils are commoners. Albeit most are not random kids Arthur found on the streets or patrols, but children of tradesmen or craftsmen. Did Mordred let slip about druids or magic?

Soon Merlin finds the answer. Leon announces a little rest. "To drink water," he says, but his eyes have this crazy glow that makes Merlin wonder for who's benefit the rest is.

Kids, that only a minute ago, were signing tiredly, now scramble through the field like a mob of drunk bees, breaking into groups. Mordred mere 10 days ago spending break standing straight at the exact spot he was doing exercises in splendid isolation now hurries to the back of the field. And indeed his friend waives at him and they go to sit away in the shadow of the East wall.

The friend is not noble. His clothes are made from rough linen and judging by size was passed down from someone older, his hair, straight and mousy brown, needs a cut, he himself looks scrawny and younger than Mordred, that looks 10 at the best day. Also, the boy is jumpy, his demeanor reminding Merlin of a small sparrow, getting anxious because of every little noise.

This one will tell Merlin all about what's going on.

Unabashedly he takes a bucket of drinking water from the arms of the other servant who went to refill the common big bucket and goes to the pair.

\- Do young masters wish to drink some water?

He says, doing his best to imitate George's voice. Mordred glares at him, his friend, however, _jumps_ from where he sat on the ground, shoulders to his ears, and jabbers:

\- No! You didn't have to trouble himself! Thank you so much! But it is really unnecessary, Mr. Emrys! But really, really thank you!

Merlin's ears are ringing. He turns his head so quickly it almost flies off his neck. Mordred just rolls his eyes at him, unbothered.

\- His mom was a druid. – He says as an explanation.

Oh, of course. Merlin would have laughed at Arthur's luck if only he didn't get a whole portion of a headache just now. He levels Mordred with a heavy stare:

\- So that's, – he nodded at the other boy, - why you have gotten in the fights?

\- It's not his fault! – The boy looks positively horrified. – He was just protecting me! Please don't be mad at him, Mr. Emrys.

Merlin winced:

\- My name is Merlin. And, please, keep your voice low.

The boy's eyes widen comically and he slaps a hand over his mouth.

Merlin chuckles, and continues:

\- And I'm not mad, just… concerned. Our Majesty's favorite pet pupil is going around all injured! I, a humble little servant, must do something about it.

\- There's no need. They won't bother no one again.

Suddenly Mordred seems smug. Merlin is ready to joke about the contagiousness of the knight's terrible bravado, but Mordred continues:

\- King Arthur scolded them. He said a man should be judged not by his origin, but by his merit.

Mordred looks proud and Merlin annoyed at himself for being annoyed at Mordred. He should be glad someone else sees the goodness in Arthur. Especially the person who may have been destined to kill Arthur.

Merlin smiles stiffly.

\- Good, then.

It is good. Still, he doesn't want to walk away just now.

Mordred raises an eyebrow at him.

\- Don't you have things to do?

Merlin ignores him. He sits beside the kids, moving the bucket with water closer:

\- Drink up. Or else you would all shake and twitch worse than the old Jeremiah in no time!

Mordred grunted:

\- Nonsense.

\- Oh, really? Don't remember you being a physician.

\- You are not a physician either!

\- I am an apprentice to a physician.

\- Well, that's not a real physical.

\- Well, no water for you then.

Merlin smiles, teasingly batting away Mordred's hands from the bucket a couple of times before letting him be. The next moment he turns to The Mordred's friend:

\- What's your name, then?

\- D-D-Daegal. – The boy says. The whole time Merlin talked with Mordred, he sat with knees drawn to his chin, eyes nervously darting between them.

Merlin smiles as kind as he can:

\- Well, Daegal, the next time you two get in trouble, don't wait up and hide, immediately run to me, heh?

The boy nods his head with such force, Merlin thinks it won't stay on his thin neck.

* * *

The boy turns out to be Morgana's spy. Maybe it's true what people say about how words of Arthur's good deeds travel fast. Maybe Morgana heard about him picking up peasant kids and turning them into knights and had one ready, the most non-threatening one. Well, it doesn't matter now, the situation is resolved.

Though it doesn't make Merlin feel better. That's has been kind of the given for the last few years. See, this type of situation makes him think, and that's about his least favorite thing in the world. Not in the sense that he is dumb or lazy, he just always prefers actions. Simple, effective, and all that matters in the end anyway.

Besides, he always had Will to do the thinking. In winter, when the harvest is over, they, as teenagers, they could spend hours just sitting on the bench before Merlin's house. Will would do the thinking out loud thing, where he can't sit still and talks animatedly with himself. Merlin would say "Hm" from time to time and do something useful, like carve wooden utensils or weave a basket.

At first, Merlin laughed at Will, no matter how much he pondered about evils of monarchy or idea that all men created equal or complacency, the morning will come and they all will go to work to pay taxes that "uphold defective regime" and their Kings and Queens will rule them as they have been doing for centuries.

As he grew up a little, he stopped counting the thinking as a complete waste of time. It is a waste of time. But only for certain people. The ones like Merlin.

Now he would give up his right arm for the ability to understand, not only the right and the wrong, but all the intricate ways they are connected and interchanged.

He signs, once again in his mind rolling, like a heavily worn scroll in Geoffrey's library, the scenes of all that occurred.

* * *

Following the footsteps of his new best friend, Daegal ignores all that Merlin made him promise on the training field. Time goes by and young will-be knights include some real fighting in their practice. This, of course, leaves them sore and bruised all over, but none of the kids visit Gaius's chambers to ask for an ointment or two.

One day Merlin eyes all the extra bottles of medicine he brewed and decides to just go to them himself. He knows Daegal won't be able to refuse him face to face.

He finds the kids at the field behind the West wall. They sit under lonely aspen with laps full of scrolls. Upon a closer look, it turns out to be a basic alphabet. Merlin lets out a chuckle.

His mom is from a family of hereditary physicians, so he sometimes forgets that very few people in this world can actually read. Something about that thought brings clammy dread in the pit of his stomach, the way it likens him to _certain people_.

\- Busy as bees, I see?

Merlin flops beside the kids, snatching one of the scrolls from Mordred'd hands and raising his arm.

\- Ugh!

In exasperation, Mordred casts a heavenward glance, and the next second his eyes flash golden. Merlin's hand clasps on nothing.

At first, Merlin doesn't know who from the three of them got scared more.

Daegal cries out, Merlin sweats profusely, Mordred freezes. No one ever walks by here, so Merlin is ready to brush it off when Mordred _gasps_. He folds himself in two, flapping his arms around, and Merlin jumps at his side.

\- I can't breathe! – He is crying stunted kind of tears when it's just silently rolling down his cheeks.

 _"Oh"_ Merlin thinks with heart dropping, recognizing what's happening. He's had these… attacks and wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy.

\- Mr. Emrys, what's wrong with him?!

\- Nothing, - Merlin murmurs calmingly, trying to scoop the kid up in an embrace, - nothing is wrong, he's just scared. Right, Mordred? – The kid nodded. – Take deep breaths for me, okay? One-two, one-two…

After that episode, Mordred is especially vicious. Merlin doesn't blame him, he is older and had a certain sense of sensibility by all the physician's assistance work, but can't shake off the feeling of embarrassment each time he gets hurt. Also, Merlin feels guilty for messing with Mordred, so the best he can do is to cheer him up:

\- Come on, everything is fine. Besides, it happens. One time I accidentally blew up a pitcher and fainted right in the middle of the Main Hall!

\- You're lying! – Mordred sobs from the position of his head, leaning on his crossed on drawn-up knees arms. He scrambled away as soon as his breathing started to go to normal. Daegal, also with red-rimmed eyes and white as a sheet, sits at his side.

\- No, I'm not! - Merlin tries to laugh indignantly, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. – I was trying to see how long can I last without using magic at all. And on top of that, I haven't slept for about two days. Yes, there was a feast then…

\- Why are you here? – Mordred cuts him off, annoyed.

\- Oh! – Merlin shoves his hand in his jacket's inner pocket to produce two bottles, - I wanted to give you that. It's a bruising ointment. For your… bruises. I thought other kids probably have something like this sent from home.

\- Half of our class are not nobles, it's a stupid reason.

Merlin chuckles from seeing Daegal's expression go from concerned to disbelieving to suspicious in a flash. This earned Merlin another glare from Mordred.

This is going so much harder than he imagined.

\- Share then! Here!

He shoved the bottles in Daegal's hands.

Daegal jaw drops at the medicine as though Merlin gave him gold ingots and he looks at Merlin with the most hilarious conflicted expression:

\- Is it really for us?

\- Yeah, of course! Someone has to take care of you. Arthur has good ideas, but not always… – Merlin nodded at the scrolls, - down with the people.

\- He promised to teach us how to read! Right, Daegal?

The poor boy jumps, being put on the spot like that:

\- Y-y-yes! – He doesn't sound enthusiastic. His brows furrow pathetically. – He must've thought we were annoying and an embarrassment for not even knowing that…

\- No! – Mordred jumps at the defense of His Majesty but his tone much gentler than the one he was using with Merlin. – He wants to help us. 'Cause that's what knights do, they help people!

\- Hm.

\- It's true!

Unable to bear this kind of shameless Arthur worship Merlin goes back. Daegal waives his hand at him and it's something.

* * *

Merlin has learned his lesson. The next time his thoughts stray to the two gallant little chaps, Merlin just shuffles the rest of glassware he has been washing into the bucket and with the yell "It should soak a little!" he runs to find them.

Surprisingly, they are with Arthur, hunched over parchments and scrolls in the abandoned academy's classroom. Although Merlin muses, it was bound to happen, though he didn't expect Arthur to actually fulfill his promise himself.

\- Psst, Merlin.

Merlin whisks sideways, barely managing to hold the door, so it won't make noise. Gwen chuckles at him.

\- Why are you helping? Did Arthur promise you you'll finally go on a date without me?

\- We were having a date without you, but… – She signs. – We were interrupted.

She is trying for annoyed, but her ears are vinous and her eyes are smiling.

Merlin smirks.

\- Gwen! How shameless!

Gwen's blush deepens.

\- Look at them! They are adorable.

They peek through the crack of the door. Merlin must admit the scene is truly adorable. Arthur with furrowed brows, looking remarkably serious and competent, explaining something to the boys that are catching his every word. For the show, Merlin still winces in disgust.

They sit then together, Arthur's looking torn between wanting to throw work at Merlin and not trusting him with it since his future knights are involved.

\- _Mer_ lin! You are not showing it right. – Arthur grumbles, grabbing the parchment from Merlin's hand and nearly sending an inkpot flying. He takes a feather and starts to write over the letters. - This letter needs a tail there.

\- No, it doesn't. No one uses that except for all the posh people.

\- Exactly.

Merlin signs. The next moment, Mordred already showing off his attempt with such a disgustingly hopeful expression. Gods.

Gwen kicks him under the table. She smiles:

\- Do druids not teach how to write? For spells and such?

Everyone at the table instantly tenses. At the same time, a realization dawns on Merlin. "Gwen helped to sneak him from Camelot." He sneakily watches her face but it seems there is no hidden intention behind the question.

Finally, Mordred answers:

\- I wasn't raised with druids. The place our community lived was raided when I was little, so I was just wandered here and there.

Gwen looks crestfallen:

\- Oh. I'm sorry.

Mordred just shrugs.

\- Do you think druids are bad?

Daegal's voice came out of nowhere. Arthur jumps and at last throws over the inkpot. Then he straightens, leveling each person at the table with a stare, but his strict demeanor is spoiled by ink stains on his arms and chin:

\- They are neither. Some are good, some are bad. Unfortunately, I and our Kingdom mostly met the latter ones. However, - he says, looking into the distance, - it's magic that is the problem. The power it gives… No man can resist the temptation to abuse it.

\- But you said that some are good? – Merlin can't stop himself. These topics don't come up naturally and he really wants to know, even though the looks Mordred and Daegal give him are downright pitying.

Arthur kicks him, clearly misinterpreting his question for a try to get a rise out of him:

\- Yes, I did. That's the trap of magic. Eventually, it tarnishes your soul, no matter how good your intentions are. Some people are unlucky to be born into the druid community. But it's not a sentence! – He smiles reassuringly at Mordred. – When you learn how to use a sword, you can still protect yourself or others, but without...

He makes one of his incomprehensible gestures. No one answers. Arthur clears his throat.

\- Alright! I think we did great today. I'll go check the reports. And Merlin will help you clean. – He nodded to Gwen. – Guinevere. Will you lend your unparalleled wisdom to me this evening?

\- Of course!

They smile disgustingly at each other, not at all sneakily.

\- Thank you, Your Majesty!

\- Yes, thank you! When will you teach us again?

Mordred, the good little student, has already packed his things and is sitting diligently with crossed arms and twinkly eyes. At Daegal question, he directs his full of admiration look at his friend. Arthur helplessly glances at Merlin:

\- What is my schedule?

\- Tomorrow's Queen Annis' delegation is arriving. They are passing to Genes' mines and will be gone in 2-3 days. After that – it's Friday, so a weekly meeting with town people. Also, a knighting ceremony at the end of next week. That's on top of the usual stuff.

\- Thanks! – Arthur smiled forcedly, not to give his future knights a bad example. Merlin feels bad for him. – Wait for me at the start of the next week then.

\- Tha…

\- What about the fifth week from now?! – Daegal flames up from the stares. He flusters. – I-I-It's Beggiriah's celebration Triada. I-I-I wanted to pray…

Arthur is every bit of a gracious ruler:

\- Do not worry. In Camelot, we respect every religion. We'll arrange our meeting accordingly. Merlin?

\- Nothing out of ordinary is planned for that week. I'll remind you not to bother these kids then.

\- You better.

With that, Arthur and Gwen go away to do… whatever. Merlin doesn't want to think about it.

\- Isn't Beggiriah one of the ancient High priestess?

Mordred asks from out of nowhere. Merlin scoffs. Deagal, the poor thing, looks even more frightened than when he talked with Arthur.

\- Oh!... I-I-I forgot… I didn't… I…

\- I'm sure it will be fine. She isn't famous at all.

Mordred is barely heard. Somewhere nearer to the end of the evening he became rather slumped. Merlin's brain instantly goes to Arthur's words about magic.

\- Mordred, are you sad because of what Arthur said? 'Cause he did not really mean it, he changes his opinion any other week or so.

Mordred cuts him off:

\- But he's right. Having that much power does tempt you. And there are no rules, so the risks increase in comparison with using a sword or being a lord.

Once again Merlin isn't sure what to think:

\- You know you say such complicated things for someone who can't read.

Mordred glares at him.

\- I think it's cool that you do magic, Mordred. And you not evil at all.

Of course, other people don't get a glare when disagreeing with Sir Best Pupil.

\- Thanks, Daegal. - Mordred's expressions turn somber, adult-like. - But it's really only something a sorcerer can understand.

* * *

Probably that's when Merlin should've noticed that something is wrong. But, frankly, on his list of people who want to use him to get to Arthur little knight trainees, who spent a good portion of the week training in a vicinity of the King anyway, are pretty low. So when Daegal suddenly changes his mind and visits the next day and the next day Merlin is rather… happy. For whatever reason, he wants to know what's happening with his fellow sorcerers.

Besides they are not far in the age that Merlin doesn't remember what's it like to be twelve. To Gwen's endless amusement instead of stealing them sweets or going to the river for a swim Merlin teaches them some practical skills. He is his mother's son after all. So he teaches them how to fix a clay oven and how to dig a stout cellar and how to cook something other than baked in coal potatoes.

The first part is easy – when free Daegal follows him everywhere, including the trips to help the villagers. Merlin came up with the idea a long time ago, when he only started to do rounds with Gaius. Time and time again he noticed leaky roofs, windows, that was not properly done up for the winter, and so on. First, he wanted to blame the town's people's unique character, but Gaius said it's because Camelot is the capital. All the young people, he explained, are either work at the castle or become apprentices.

Well, then Merlin decided that he didn't want to live in the place that's falling apart, so he started to help. He also decided that since most of what knight trainees do is rubbish, so their talents will be most helpful elsewhere. However, he usually takes older trainees. So Daegal mostly listens open-mouthed to the fables other people were telling about knights' missions and Camelot. Mordred mostly stands aside, trying to hide his curious glances.

The second part is more tasking. Despite Camelot being a town, there are fewer ingredients than he had in Ealdor, since there are no wild things and if anyone grows something, it's usually something simple and bland like a whole backyard of cabbages. Merlin is used to rectifying the situation for the two of them: just a few more hours of herb gathering, but for teaching, he uses Gwen's kitchen. With all of Gwen's friends there waiting for a tasty dinner. So not only he has to improvise with his recipes but also be subjected to constant vicious teasing of which only tipsy young women are capable.

After a while, the little boat that is Merlin's life that temporarily has been scampering all over the water has found the new stream and is sailing peacefully. At least to the moment when Merlin finds himself locked in an abandonment castle room, while outside are heard clangs and whistles of weapons of Morgana's army.


	3. Chapter 3

Morgana is invading Camelot. 

Outside. 

Morgana. 

Locked...

He is locked.

Morgana is invading Camelot. 

Try " _ Patentibus _ ".

Morgana is...

Like after great physical work, his muscles are tense and with every passing minute, his movements are more sluggish, uncoordinated. 

His thoughts adopt the same clumsiness and for a while, he just sits there. His mind feels super-focused, therefore not being able to focus on anything. Merlin is too hot, he feels each and every way his clothes touch his body and it's too rough, the sounds, Gods, the sounds! Clanks, bangs, murmurs, scratchings, Mordred’s breathing and confusing muttering. 

Merlin looks at his bony hands, that are folding into familiar shapes to perform magical spells without any magic behind it.

_ Forbeo. Vagnerioh. Ogharef.  _

Yes, just like this. One thing at a time. The most important thing is to start.

Merlin takes a deep breath and looks up.

The door is a regular wooden thing, not even a solid sturdy oak that is Arthur’s door, just a few unpolished planks, nailed down together. Still, it stands unmarked from Merlin’s countless magical attacks. Almost painting-like, magical whirls marring the walls around. 

Magical whirls are marring the walls around. 

Too obvious. He needs to cast a Vanishing spell. The ink. He’s seen it on the table before, maybe it got away in a blast. Or maybe he can draw a charm with soot… 

Focus. The way out. 

As if obstructed by an invisible force, Merlin with effort returns his attention to the door. From all the spells cast outside magical streams are constantly shifting and breaking at increased speed, so it is hard to diagnose, but without a doubt, there are no enchantments on it. Which means…

Which means nothing to Merlin. Unless there’s one of Gaius’s volumes in this abandoned guest room.

Back to blasting then. There’s one spell he has wanted to try…

\- Mordred, – he calls. The kid whips his head back, from where he examining what seems every stone in the wall. There’s no usual snappiness in him, just confusion and fear, Merlin gestures "Step aside", but dumbly Mordred turns his head where Merlin is pointing.

Merlin also can't act with his usual harshness:

\- Move aside, - he says gently, - I'm going to try and blast the door again.

Mordred frowns. Again he intently stares at the wall, caressing it, and then steps behind Merlin to the ancient bed.

Merlin wants to hug the kid or at least to pat his shoulder, instead, he says:

\- Be careful. The blast is going to be big.

\- Ugum.

Mordred's voice is barely a whisper. He crouches to the other side of the bed, arms over his head.

Merlin inhales. He lifts his arms, fingertips tingling. As always without much strain, he yanks the stream of force so much bigger than himself. The hard part is to maneuver it how he needs it.

Sweat beads at his temples.

_\- Patentibus,_ \- he whispers.

* * *

_When Merlin was a child he was scared of fire. Villagers from the neighboring place burnt someone, a family. He remembers he and Will were watching as a thin pillar of dense murky smoke wobbled in the distance. Echos of screams and chatters were rattling through the wast infinite fields._

_Or maybe it was just his imagination._

_Mordred is scared of water. Not the river and the lakes, but man-made things like wells and aqueducts and bathtubs._

_Merlin wonders if that because of how he has seen sorcerers being executed. Like that ghost boy persecuting Uther._

_Daegal isn't scared of anything in particular. He says despite his mom being a druid they lived as regular people._

_Still, he notices how the boy flattens when the flash of Camelot red appears._

_Merlin guesses some things are universal for everyone magic touches. He has seen this exact expression on his mother's face. He hates it._

_When Gwaine comes someday late to treat a nasty gush at his arm, Merlin's eyes can't seem to leave his thick crimson robe. As always when there's no danger, their interactions turn awkward. They gravitate toward each other, but like water and oil can't seem to mix without something._

_Merlin smiles at another anecdote from the mission and Gwaine stops. His cow eyes, full of genuine compassion, sear Merlin:_

_\- Is something wrong? Are you feeling unwell?_

_Merlin is feeling unwell. Merlin is also feeling disgusting at himself for lying. But that's given._

_What's new is the cold trickle of dread in Merlin's stomach. He wonders what will Gwaine do if he meets someone with magic, not him, but a stranger, like a druid or a healer like Alice? ~~(or Mordred?)~~_

_This time he can't brush off his thoughts no matter how hard he tries._

* * *

Nothing happens. Or more precisely, the door isn't affected. It stays eerily still all through the deafening explosion when furniture is hopping sideways and all the knicks and knacks that stayed upright the last time are flying to the floor. Merlin himself can't stay straight and tumbles ungracefully to the ground. 

\- Mordred, you okay? - He doesn't recognize his voice through the wool in his ears. 

\- Mhm. - Mordred responds, climbing from behind the bed. - What do you think the locking spell is? 

His voice is not so lost anymore, more... curious and Merlin is truly sorry that he can't provide any answers:

\- I don't know. I don't even know if we are locked with a spell or something else. 

Mordred doesn't give up. 

\- It must be really complicated magic then. Do you think Morgana specifically locked us up? So we won't stop her?

Merlin signed. He wouldn't be surprised if it was for a more sinister reason. His memory flashes to the scene of a greenish spell exploding the roof of someone's house that is barely seen from their window. Although the window of the room is situated inconveniently above the lush endless fields behind the Camelot castle, rather than the town, the sounds of brutal invasion are unmistakable. More evidence that Morgana has truly abandoned all the kindness she had.

The last time she didn't manage to kill Merlin, so who's to deny that Morgana wouldn't want to get some sweet revenge privately. 

And Mordred is there just as a cherry on top. A former friend that betrayed sorcery and became a knight. Considering Mordred hang out with Daegal all the time and they haven't tried to recruit him...

He glances at Mordred. He is looking into the distance, lips pursed, expression hurt, worrying the hem of his tunic with his little fingers.

Merlin doesn't dwell on the exact relationship the kid now has with Morgana, because evidently, Mordred doesn't know it either.

Just in case Merlin is careful with his words:

\- Maybe. She didn't know I was Emrys the last time, but maybe Daegal told her.

Mordred doesn't answer, but his hands are clenched into fists.

* * *

After that, they just sit there silent. Merlin is leaning on the bedframe, Mordred is tucked into a chair. 

If you don't count trying to climb up the fireplace or jump out the window (and Merlin  _ doesn't)  _ new escape ideas do not appear. 

Suddenly something grumbles. Merlin smirks, turning his head:

\- Someone's hungry!

Merlin rolls his eyes but not mean-spiritedly. Still, he pulls his legs closer to his body, hiding. He's almost shy when he says the next words:

\- It's fine, - he pauses. - It was only half a day. I'm used to much worst.

Merlin figures. He hems assentingly.

All the thoughts he has been having lately surging on the front of his mind, clear as spring water.

He knows Mordred is a druid. And he knows druids are... struggling. But he guesses he doesn't  _ understand _ .

He observes Mordred anew. His grown-up like demeanor, his gloominess, his small for his age frame. The question flies from his lips like a brisk titmouse:

\- Why are you here?

Mordred shrinks into himself tighter.

\- I already told you, - he says with just too proactive annoyance. 

Merlin doesn't answer. It's very important for him to know, but he won't make Mordred talk. Having magic is confusing and messy and complicated. Merlin's heart changes about it five times a day, and, frankly, he's afraid the time when it will set.

After all, Mordred speaks:

\- I was tired. What I remember of my childhood there's always killing and stealing and lying. And sometimes you need to do that, or you'll die or someone else will die. But it's still bad! - his eyes darted to Merlin, looking for approval. - And even when we stayed with druids. You have to lie to people to get money. To the good people. And you have to kill them too if they find out about you too much or your friends will die. And I just want to live normally. - He pauses. - Here, you can. And I know normal people can be bad and lie and kill too, but there're rules and it's not... - He pauses again. - And so many people can't be wrong... And I want magic to return because there are fairies and the Priestess and goblins and others, but people... Maybe we shouldn't... rely on it so much.

Mordred is extremely vulnerable before him, but also defensive and Merlin can't help and give him a smile. His heart is beating wildly as t he metronome of his heart leaps with abandon on "Magic is poisonous and you are selfish for using it" side. 

At last, Mordred looks determined.

\- And when... If... I mean, when Morgana... I want to help you stop her. I don't want magic hurting people.

\- Alright. - Merlin catches his eyes. - Thank you.

* * *

_Merlin barely remembers the first time he had run away from home. He was maybe five or four and he could understand only very little. Like you mustn't tell about your "tricks" or something very bad will happen. Fire is bad, cause it makes mum sad. When you see a red cape - run._

_Maybe it was the fire that started it. He had tried to make it form a figure "see, mum, it's not scary" and accidentally made it erupt. He remembers Hunith's face twist as the contents of pot she dropped scalds her legs._

_Or maybe it was a different accident. Whatever, after, the picture in Merlin's head is long pine trees, slimy grass, and dark forest, smelling of rotten leaves and rain._

_He has had a lot of stories like this, crazy things he had done out of stupidity. One time he didn't leave the house for three months afraid he'll accidentally reveal his magic. Another time he had given himself an ugly burn while "training to withstand a pyre". Again, runaways. He did it more times than he can count, thinking Mum and Will will be safer without him._

_He hates how it all blurs in his mind, almost making him forget that his time in Ealdor wasn't all misery and fear._

_He also hates how despite his recklessness and proclivity for bad ideas, he never once tried to eat wolfberry or hold his head underwater really long. All those things folk believes tell will help you get rid of your magic._

* * *

When Daegal comes, as white as his tunic, it's Mordred who makes him blackout with a precise blow to the base of the neck. 

\- Careful! - Merlin jumps at Daegal's side, gently lifting his unconscious body, that still manages to look skittish, to set it on the bed. 

Mordred doesn't seem affected. He's examining the wall that is behind the door.

\- It's a talisman, - he says, smug, - it was hidden there. One of the stones is loose.

Honestly, kids!

\- It's all good, but why did you make him unconscious? He said he wanted to let us go?

Under Mordred's look, Merlin feels like  _ he  _ is a madman:

\- Will you go?

This feeling in his stomach is like after a particularly sour apple eaten on an empty stomach. "Protect Arthur" blinks in his mind, like a candle on the wind, but waiting has left him tired, and the fire that was his mind now merely smolder producing thick curls of obscuring smoke. He hasn't considered running, but the thought suddenly looks more and more sound. Judging by what Daegal had time to let on, Morgana's army has seized the castle. 

Could he fight her alone?

And could he risk getting a kid injured?

Mordred frowns, huge eyes splashing with emotions. In a second he's inside, the door shut, the talisman in hand.

\- Please, Emrys! We can't just go away-

\- If we do, it's not forever, - Merlin cuts off, - just for regrouping. Wait a little I need to think.

\- Well, I'm against regrouping.

Stupid child. Does he think he'll participate in this mission? 

\- Well, I'm aga...

A screeching shout chops trough the air. They both race to the window. Merlin's limbs are melting. 

The wast field beneath them is quickly filling with carts. Like a parchment that freshly got coffee spilled on it, they arrive, creaking and moaning, pulled by the horses unlike Merlin ever has seen before - blue-black and as wide as two normal ones. 

Atop of carts figures lay unmoving. Sometimes there's two of them, sometimes there's three. The King of Camelot lays alone.

Something snaps inside Merlin, all currents of magic rushing under his will, their bits bursting into this world like a juice out of a taut ripe berry. He's so disgusted, he wants to throw up. When he turns, one thought is plunged into his head like a nail.

He needs to stop this. 

* * *

_Merlin always kind of felt unique. He is an only sorcerer among people he knows, he doesn't fit in with druids or other hereditary magic users. Gaius says there isn't a magical being comparable with him either._

_So even when he accepted he has a destiny, he never related to one of the sides. There were magical folks and there were ordinary people and there was Merlin. The battle between the first two was as old as time and Merlin is just a bystander._

_He is hesitant to admit but having a sorcerer around (not Gaius, Gaius is family and it seems always will be a Camelotian first) makes him belong to the side._

_This depends on the time of exposure, he notices. With Fisher king he doesn't feel bad for lying, with Freya he's ready to bewitch the knights he knows by name, with Mordred he starts, slowly and against his will, to resent his closest friends._

* * *

Walking through the castle's corridors, casting spells whenever he pleases, and knowing his eyes are glowing is surprisingly easy. Merlin thought he would be reserved, old habits hovering over his frame like a heavy rainsoaked coat. 

Instead, he feels like himself.

With a twitch of his chin, he sends another group of attackers flying. Druids. So much for peaceful people. 

Mordred behind him tenses when they pass their unconscious forms.

\- Why are they doing this? - his voice is questioning, but not surprised.

Merlin doesn't answer him. The doors of the Great Hall are near and he is not slowing his steps. He made his choice. 

He wants magic free again, but this kind of magic he'll never support. 

\- Mordred, I need you to not go in, understand? Hide behind that statue. - Before Mordred has opened his mouth to object, Merlin adds. - You'll be watching my back. Here. - He gives the kid a little pennywhistle, he planed recently for one of the Gaius' patients. - Use this, if someone's approaching.

It is almost adorable, the seriousness with which kid accepts his mission. After Mordred's back is turned, he cast an invisibility spell on him. The mission is a fluke, and it won't do if the kid gets hurt, fulfilling it. 

Taking a deep breath he strides forward, making the weighty door swing open with his magic.

* * *

As he predicted Morgana is in The Throne Room. She springs from where she sat at Arthur's place, flaring under the glow of hundreds of candles floating beside walls. She clads in simple druid's robe and her hair is combed and Merlin almost can see the old Morgana in her. The impression fades as soon as she starts to speak, the surprise in her eyes wild:

\- What are  _ you  _ doing here? - she hisses.

At least a dozen pair of druids' eyes snap in his direction.

Merlin stands tall. Magic is pulsating against him like a living, breathing creature. He commands it to stop.

\- I've come to stop you.

Everything stills. The candle fires, the shadows, the gushes of wind.

Soft murmurs crawl through the Hall. "Emrys". "Emrys". "Emrys". 

Merlin can see the exact moment the realization dawns on Morgana.

\- You!

The regal man beside her catches her under the arm, his floral diadem sliding off. Merlin's eyes never leave hers.

\- Why would you do that?

Morgana scoffs. 

\- _You_ are asking?

Her tone is almost ironic, as though they are friends, sharing a private joke. Merlin doesn't like it. It punches him in the gut, leaving him breathless.

\- They haven't done anything! That's more than cruel...

Merlin's thoughts are stepping on their own toes, he can barely speak. They are still standing on the opposing ends of The Hall and suddenly Morgana's face falls. Her mouth hangs open, a knowing expression on her face. Then as a slip and fall, it twists, shrill laughter cutting through the air.

\- I've never thought titles mattered, but you, Merlin, you are a servant through and through!

She goes into another laughter fit. Merlin's heart beats in his throat. 

He frowns. 

\- At least I'm not hurting innocents!

\- Innocents? - Morgana's face turns cold, her voice grating Merlin's ears like sharp chunks of ice. - They are all at least bystanders. And we are just trying to have a life.

Her eyes darts to each of her companions, strange desperation creeping in them all. Merlin readies himself.

The first blow comes from the side and along with air kicks from Merlin all the uncertainty. 

He blocks it milliseconds late, sliding a few steps left.

Then he isn't moving. The magic compliant and smooth as a brick of melted butter slides into the shapes Merlin commands it and all the spells shatter, colliding with it.

He stands watching glimpses of fear assaulting the air around. He is satisfied but also bitter. Never he wanted to invoke that emotion.

But they leave him no choice.

Involuntarily his thoughts go back to the scene of the unconscious... dead ~~(no, the can't be, he would've felt it in the air, there's so many of them, no way)~~ knights. Would they just wipe out all of Camelot?

They?

He takes a deep breath and almost faints. Searing pain blossoms at the bottom of his lungs. Magical exhaustion. He needs to wrap it up quickly. 

He raises his hands, dropping the barrier. No one attacks. 

He takes a step closer. Everyone steps back.

\- Get out of Camelot. It is under my protection.

He says, something rough out of dragon tongue crawling into his voice. He is Emrys now. Not speaking, but commanding.

* * *

He gives them the rest of the day. Watches from the balcony as they collect the injured and unconscious, confer at the Square, unload the carts with the Knight.

(alive, thank gods, alive. They didn't have time to do something horrible to them.)

From time to time Morgana glances at him unbelieving. When it's her time to go, last, she spits at him from the abomination of the horse:

\- Someday magic will reign free in Camelot.

\-  Someday it will, - he agrees, - but it wouldn't be your kind of magic.

The smirk Morgana gives him as a response is sad. Pitying.

* * *

After Merlin goes to find Mordred. He is still behind the statue, not wanting to meet the druids. Merlin saw him step back, seeing them, Morgana spilling out of The Throne Room. 

\- What now? - Mordred is avoiding his eyes, his shoulders shackled with the restless kind of energy. 

Merlin doesn't ask what's wrong. A headache like a ringing hammer of outlandish overseas mechanism rattles through the crown of his head.

\- I'm going to steal some magic books from the vaults. - He says. - Arthur will believe they came for it.  \-  And what about Daegal?

And also Gaius and Gwen and Arthur and... 

Merlin takes shallow breaths, afraid otherwise the small semblance of comfort will tear.

\- He's still there. They said he isn't with them.

* * *

When Merlin sleeps that night, he dreams of rough cruel voice, warm gushes of magic wind, Olyvya, the baker, her features drained into a predatory mask, too sharp and long, by the fire she's lighting, it stands ravenous in the velvet night, tightening space around, where only flares of familiar, peasants eyes, golden from the fire, are seen. He also sees Morgana's eyes, green and exhausted, brown watery Iseldirs' eye, and countless others he does not know. There's blood taste in his mouth, a rusty scabrous metal that makes his throat close off, and his insides twist. His own voice is booming in his head with words he doesn't understand. 

He jerks awake, heart dropping like a boulder, and tugging him along.

He can barely process the white cotton curtains and hard stones grinding on his too bony frame. 

\- Merlin, my boy, are you well? 

Gaius rushes to his sides, his abandoned medicine gurgling. A whiff of a mix of hypericum and rosemary and that smell all old people have nudges Merlin's nose and the next second he is used to it.

\- Fine. 

Merlin squeezes out a smile unbothered, now more annoyed than scared. Another nightmare.

Gaius, however, looks strict, and already is checking his forehead, likely considering what medicine Merlin needs.

\- Gaius, truly, I'm fine. 

Then he adds, seeing Gaius's skeptic expression:

\- It's about Morgana's attack. 

He is not even lying. The eyes. He does not know them, but he  _ recognizes _ .

Gaius waits for him to elaborate. 

\- Was I right to stop them? 

Thousands of volumes couldn't contain the wisdom hewn in Gaius' eyes. 

\- We make decisions to shape our future, but our future is unknown. There would be no regret, if only we were all omniscient. - He paused. - You did the right thing, Merlin.  Druids are peaceful people, they believe too many deaths anger Gods. But that doesn't mean they can't be cruel. When I went on a round today, I saw the runes they carved into the buildings. These runes are designed to manipulate minds.

Merlin also saw those runes. They were emanating serenity, a bit on the numb side. Merlin secretly uses just those to help knights with a panic malady. 

He nodes gratefully at Gaius, laying face to the wall. 

He dreams about Morgana's eyes, how he saw them in The Throne Room, desperate, weary, kind.

* * *

Arthur burns the rest of ancient books. 

\- We can't risk them getting into the wrong hands. - He says. - And once we eradicate magic, there will be no need for them.

For the first time, Merlin feels anger at this kind of proclamation. Fathoms of Morgana's words about servants and just wanting to have a life caresses Merlin's consciousness, obtrusive like loose strands of hair in the wind. 

Bitter, he rolls his eyes and stalks out the courtyard, ignoring Arthur's indignant exclamations. 

He goes to his room, occupied by Daegal, since their falling out with Mordred. 

The idiot did what he did for money. The pair that took him in when his mother died, took all of his mother's things in payment. With a possibility for him to buy it all back. Of course, he rushed to do terrible jobs, like being bait for various bandits group. Or spying to find out the plans of the Kind to help druids seize Camelot at the perfect moment. 

Druids that by his words only wanted a bloodless coup, with all the people in charge trapped in an island until... until what? They change their minds or die of old age? 

\- What are you saying their plan was again?

Merlin asks without preamble and even accommodating Daegal can't help and signs long-sufferingly at him. 

\- They wanted Morgana to become a new Queen and stop the persecution of druids. 

\- And the knights?

\- They wanted to put them to sleep and take to The Gala Isles. - The last words Daegal says with weird intonation, meaningfully, which means The Isles are another secretly magical ans important druids' place. - I don't know why they didn't do it right away with all the others! Maybe they met before the spell worked...

\- Fine. - His head is spinning. Frankly, Merlin doesn't know why he does it to himself. He has heard it a million times now, but things haven't gotten more clear. - And what next? Do other people just accept that magic is legal?

\- They accepted when The King started knighting commoners. 

Merlin hates that the kid has a point. 

\- Besides, I was just an outsider. They didn't exactly tell me all their plans. Maybe they had a trick up their sleeve.

Merlin signs. The storm in his brain hasn't cleared one bit.

Maybe he should leave thinking to the people who are good at it. With that, he stands up and heads to the lower town. It's time to visit Gwen.


End file.
